#son of bor

[theaccursedninth]

//I’m still obsessed with this. Its SO much better than what we got. Malekith is so stoic, cryptic and cool most of the time😭 I NEED to know what was intended for him before Disney demanded reshoots.

Thor: The Dark World - Deleted Scene, Alternate Frigga Death

Let's talk about this scene. What did Malekith mean by "is that what he told you?" talking about Bor. Is there another truth to the story the previous king told his son?

Why did Odin not fire at them? Gungnir does have the power to kill with one charge. I hated how Frigga KNEW he was going to sacrifice her to protect the Aether. (and still tried to get him to free her :'(

Had he held them up for a few seconds longer, Thor would have had the time to strike properly.

I still wish they would have shot the scene as mentioned in this post.

What do we think? I'd love to hear your guys' opinions on this one if you have any.

@ripfic @latent-thoughts @galaxythreads @gloriousburden @unityrain24 @silenceinternalmonologue @ancientflight @kittythesnugglycat @lokimymuse @youlackconviction @mastreworld @trulydesperate @worstloki

[sesamenom]

meet again at the end of time

(aka: C&C finally get their own pet edain)

some background:

(for those not following the braywashed saga) the two guys in the middle are (real, entirely human) wrestlers Elton Prince & Kit Wilson of Pretty Deadly, introduced to the silm fandom by @kitwilsonsass, and known for their uncanny resemblance to C&C in both appearance and demeanor.

As Arda is Earth, the Dagorath has not yet happened, and PD are human people who exist, it is entirely canon compliant for them to join C&C in the dagorath. Hence, CCPD alliance.

design notes:

CC

Celegorm's tattoos represent a symbol of devotion to Orome/the Hunt by imitating Orome's vala markings. Given that bows aren't the best weapon for melee fights, his primary weapon here is based on a boar spear, because I imagine similar tactics would be helpful against some of Morgoth's larger creatures. He wears the Feanorian star once on his armband and once painted on his shield (not shown).

Curufin's helm is based off the Silm description of the red-plumed helms of the Host of Feanor. His armor features one Feanorian star and the Trees (telperion not shown), and his shield bears one other star. He wears a dwarven knife (not Angrist since beren broke it) on his belt.

PD

Based on braywashed's assortment of PD outfit posts, they seem to have a light/dark color scheme, reflected here in their armor colors. Their hairstyles are based on what seems like their irl/interview-hair (aka practical hairstyle, because as unnaturally elven as they are they sadly do not have magical hair) (x). Elto's pink arrow fletchings and Kitto's blue mesh cape refer to the pink/blue matching outfit (x), while Elto's bow/quiver harness and both of their shirt colors reference the harness outfit.

Their weapons follow the opposite color scheme as their armor for contrast purposes, and weapon types (double rapiers + bow, double daggers) are based on braywashed's post here.

Both of PD's armor designs draw influence from c. 15th century English armor, seeing as they are British people, and feature a unique half-breastplate evocative of the extremely cropped sleeve shirt things they normally wear when wrestling.

edit: uploaded the wrong version (no tattoos) at first oops

[fluffypotatey]

if mk, mei, and red son were squires for the knights of the round table, who's squires would they be?

OK OK I THINK I GOT IT (anon forgive me for my late reply, I wanted time to plan this out)

with Mei, I can see her being a squire to Percival bc she would love training that’s focused on strength and wearing sleeveless uniform, OR Gwaine bc chaotic man meets chaotic girl and goes “ah she was just like me” (Also they do share being children of the wealthy but desiring to be separated from that or have the freedom to be themselves without the restrictions that come with nobility/wealth soooooooo!

Red Son I feel is super picky and would not be a big fan of Gwaine (who would join Mei in teasing him), so imma go with Leon and:or Elyan because Leon is a by the book knight and Red Som seems like a type A kind of person. however, I also say Elyan because while Elyan is someone who would take squire training seriously, he wouldn’t say no to having some fun and might approach it better than Gwaine or Lancelot (man’s too noble for his taste and also the duality of him freaks Red Son out)

MK would be Lancelot’s squire (Wukong can never know, the jealous little shit). both guys have a goal to protect and be good and both have a very black & white outlook on morality (meaning, swk saved the townspeople from dbk and is therefore a hero, or Merlin used magic to help aid me in defeating the griffin therefore he proves magic can be a force for good)

ngl MK would internalize all of Lancelot’s teaching about honor and the code but also he would be a great encourager and be patient enough to help walk MK through areas he isn’t that good at. also, Lancelot is great at giving advice (something MK always craves and yet receives the bare minimum— tho good advice he DOES get is ignored by him), so he can also help there

[poparthuriana]

Magical Gatecrashers: Cullwch, Eliavres, The Green Knight, the Lady of the Lake, the Knight of the Lantern, and that shapeshifting guy from Jaufre

Neglected Siblings: Aglovale, Agravaine, Clarissant, Daniel son of Brunor, Dornar, Elaine of Cornwall, Ganieda, Gaheris, Hector de Maris, Kay, Lucan, Madog son of Uther, and Safir

Uther and Friends: Ban, Bors the elder, Branor the Brown, Brunor the Black, Cleges, Ector, Guiron, Lac, Meliodas, Merlin, Seguran, and Uther

[morttodea]

Examine! Chibiterasu!

-Another godling, a puppy from the well-known sun-goddess herself.~ You think it's refreshing to be near celestial beings like him, it saves you the trouble of trying to find them in the sea of inky black darkness. This little one radiates just as much light as his mother.~ - Though if you had to say, he looks like a potat to you.~ You understand this is a god that you should show some respect, but.... you just want to sit down on the ground and let Chibiterasu tussle with your fingers. Or wiggle his snoot- Or watch him paint! -you're tempted to carry the little dude everywhere you go, but you know... not your child.

[eynsavalow]

working on Kayley's muse preview and remembering her dad is named Lionel which is hilarious because there is a Sir Lionel in Arthurian lore- He's Sir Bors brother who is constantly depicted as fighting said brother

[vulgayte]

I've reread this part a few times and this moment always stands out to me. I think Arthur is around 18 at this point (and it shows)

[riekesart]

1920s Magical London Loki/Tony AU is finished! Read The Talent on AO3.

The Talent (46869 words) by Bottan Chapters: 6/6 Fandom: Thor (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Loki/Tony Stark, Loki & Thor (Marvel), Frigga | Freyja & Loki (Marvel), Loki & Odin (Marvel), Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Characters: Loki (Marvel), Tony Stark, Thor (Marvel), Frigga | Freyja (Marvel), Odin (Marvel), Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Laufey (Marvel) Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Magical London, Science Bros, Alternate Universe - Human, Fantasy and Fictional Setting Racism, Period-Typical Racism, Action/Adventure, Magic User Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Panic Attacks, Loki Needs a Hug (Marvel), Loki Gets a Hug (Marvel), Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, Plot, Magic and Science, Monsters, Alternate Universe - Historical, POV Loki (Marvel), Mentioned Substance Abuse, whoops the rating changed, sorry folks

Summary: 1920. London’s magical society is dying. Plague sweeps the streets and monsters lurk in shadowed alleyways. Amid hunting monsters and trying to establish himself in his father’s eyes, Loki finds himself thoroughly distracted by American millionaire scientist Tony Stark. And when he realizes Stark might hold the key to end Britain’s suffering, Odin tasks him with securing the engineer’s help. ** “Alright, alright, you got me,” Stark sounded exasperated, incapable of bearing the silence. “I will do one business meeting – as in the number one, a singular meeting – in exchange for dinner. Look at me, do you want me on my knees, begging? I just really want to pick your brain.” “Wednesday,” Loki said automatically. “Eleven. Bor & Sons offices.” “Done,” Stark said with a grimace. “Dinner on Friday, and I get to pick the place!” Loki blinked at the mild chaos that Stark left in his wake and found that he hadn’t agreed to dinner, at all.

[roosterforme]

The Curveball Part 13 | Bob Floyd x OC

Summary: Molly didn't think life with Bob could get any better. Then their son arrives, and she's proven wrong yet again. She doesn't know what the future holds, but she knows that she wants her family with her for every adventure. And that starts with a trip down a grassy path through some wildflowers.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, swears, pregnancy, smut, 18+

Length: 3900 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Female OC (this story accompanies Batting Practice!)

Check my masterlist for more! The Curveball masterlist

Thank you to @mak-32 and @teacupsandtopgun for the beautiful banners!

With the number of times Bob had to field the question, "So how did you and Molly get engaged?" you would have thought he could answer it by now without blushing. But he couldn't. Not even close. 

The only ones who knew what really happened were Nat, Bradley and Molly's sister. Nat kept calling Molly 'a goddamn legend'. Bradley cringed. And Molly's sister just said, "Yeah, that tracks."

But Molly kept those pretty Mrs. Floyd nipple piercings in for him, and he loved her even more for it. Her belly had gotten so big by Valentine's Day, he didn't know how she'd make it all the way to her due date in another four weeks. She looked absolutely exhausted after every shift in the emergency room, and more often than not, she ended up falling asleep on the couch with him after dinner while they watched a murder documentary. 

"Mo," he whispered on Friday night after she fell asleep mostly on top of him on the couch, his big hand splayed over her belly. His son was squirming a bit as he stroked her soft skin. She was incredible. His Molly. They hadn't decided exactly when they were going to get married, but she kept talking about wildflower meadows. So he agreed to wait until the summer, after the baby was born. 

He had to whisper her name a few times before she jolted awake. "Hmm?" she moaned. "Bobby, I was in the middle of a delicious nap." He kissed her lips when she pouted at him. 

"Let's get in bed, Honey," he said softly, pulling her shirt down over her belly. "We have to babysit Ev tomorrow so your sister and Bradley can go out for Valentine's Day."

She smirked at him. "They like to do dirty shit in the Bronco."

Bob just shrugged. "We do dirty stuff in my truck all the time."

She moaned softly as she said, "We sure do, Lieutenant Floyd." Bob's eyes slowly closed as Molly's hand skimmed down his abs and into the waistband on his underwear. "Dirty stuff everywhere. Anything my fiancé wants."

Bob grunted as her small hand wrapped around his cock, and her lips grazed his stubbled jaw. He was getting harder as she stroked him slowly, tongue darting out to taste his neck. "Molly," he moaned, bucking up into her hand as she teased his tip. But she just hummed against him as she jerked him off. And then her hand slowly came to a stop until she was just softly cupping his balls.

And then he heard her soft, even breathing next to his ear, and Bob couldn't help but laugh. She actually fell asleep while she was giving him a handjob. Bob thought for a moment that maybe a less secure man would be insulted, and maybe that's what Molly was used to in the past, but he knew she was beyond tired right now. 

He kissed her forehead and gently eased her hand back out from his underwear. "It's bedtime," he whispered, and she jolted awake again.

"No," she said, shaking her head and trying to reach for his cock. 

"Yes," he replied with a chuckle as he slid out from under her without being too rough with her bump. "Come on, and I'll rub your back until you fall asleep in bed."

"Mmkay," she agreed, bleary eyed as Bob led her to their bedroom. He helped her get undressed, kneeling in front of her and placing some gentle kisses to her belly like he did every night. 

"I love you," he whispered as Molly ran her fingers through his hair. The nightly conversations with his son were something he was definitely going to keep doing after the baby was born. "I can't wait to meet you. We just finished getting your nursery ready. I hope you like baseball, because your Uncle Bradley and I went a little nuts in there."

"That's an understatement," Molly whispered. "They went flipping bananas."

Bob cupped her pretty belly with both of his hands and smiled. "Mommy's right. We did go overboard."

He watched Molly yawn before she said, "It's okay. Everett and Piper will teach him all about baseball." And then she kept yawning, so Bob got her settled into bed with a pillow tucked against her belly. He set his glasses on the nightstand and turned off the lamp. And then he climbed in behind her as the big spoon and kissed the engagement ring she was wearing. 

"You wanna talk about baby names?" he asked, rubbing his hand along her side, because he knew it would make her sleepy.

"I only like a handful of names," she replied, and Bob could hear the pout in her voice even though the room was dark. 

"Come on, Mo. Literally anything except Everett. Your sister will never forgive you."

"Yeah, but my nephew will think it's funny, and that's almost enough motivation for me to do it."

Bob groaned. "What's your second favorite name?"

It took Molly a few moments, but eventually she said, "I want to name him after you."

"Robert Junior?" he said, already shaking his head. "RJ?" He didn't like it at all.

"No. Your middle name. We can call him Charlie," she mumbled, obviously dozing off.

Now Bob smiled as he kissed his sleeping fiancee on the shoulder. "Charlie Floyd."

-----------------------------

Since it wasn't a leap year, Molly knew Bob wasn't really getting a birthday. "Still only eight years old," she told him on February twenty eighth. She was straddling his lap on the couch, but her belly was fucking enormous now and always in the way. He didn't seem to mind though as he gently held her and cradled her and the baby. She kissed down his cheek until she got to his lips. "You look terrible for your age."

Bob burst out laughing. "Thanks, Honey. Hoping the kid gets your genetics."

"Call him by his name," she whispered. 

"Charlie," Bob said with a smile. There was no room left for Charlie to move around too much, but he always seemed to know when Bob was nearby. He was currently squirming so much, Molly was getting heartburn. 

"He just wants his daddy all the time," she said, running her hands slowly over Bob's chest. "I want his daddy all the time, too."

"Yeah?" Bob asked cautiously. It was really difficult to fuck now. Molly was always uncomfortable. But she knew Bob was never going to rush her. So they spent about five minutes getting her propped up on the couch with throw pillows.

"This is a lot of work for you to get some birthday sex, Bobby," she crooned as his erection bumped her repeatedly in the leg while he made sure she was comfortable. 

"It's worth it," he replied as he sank into her warm pussy.

"Oh, yeah... definitely worth it," she agreed, rocking back gently to meet his slow thrusts. It was unhurried and perfect, and Bob's big hands wrapped around to her belly made her feel safe. 

But later that evening, she knew she had to do something she really didn't want to do. "Bob, it's time," she said solemnly as she stood with her jewelry box in both hands. 

"I understand," he whispered, taking it from her and sitting down on their bed. He sighed sadly and watched her pull her shirt over her head followed by her sports bra. And then the pretty Mrs. Floyd piercings had to come out. She almost laughed at the sad look on his face as she put them in her jewelry box and closed the lid.

"They'll be back. I promise."

"I know," he whispered, kissing along both of her breasts and nuzzling her with his nose. She felt like she looked all swollen and misshapen, but he didn't seem to mind as he kissed her everywhere.

-------------------------

"You can't be serious right now," Molly groaned the following night as she nibbled on some pizza. Everyone was out for Bob's fake birthday at the usual restaurant. "You're going to Disney World? Without me?!" she asked Everett.

Bob tried not to laugh as his soon to be nephew looked genuinely upset. "Mom, can we bring Aunt Molly with us?" he whispered.

But Molly just laughed and kissed him. "No, this vacation is for you and your parents. Besides, the baby will be too young this summer. I'll come next time."

"How much longer until the baby comes?" Everett asked her looking at her belly hopefully. "This is taking forever."

"Hopefully just a few more days," Bob supplied, offering Molly more pizza. But she hadn't even finished one slice yet, just sipping some apple juice instead. 

"No," she told him. "I don't feel great today."

Then Bob noticed the ridiculous grin on Everett's face where he sat perched on Bradley's lap. "I got a new dad. I'm getting my very own cousin, and even an Uncle Bob!"

"You're living your best life, my man," Molly told him. "It's like you planned this all out."

But she really didn't look comfortable at all, and Bob knew she was struggling with fatigue now. So he kissed her cheek, insisted on paying for dinner, and started to herd everyone outside. As soon as he opened the passenger side door of his truck and tried to help her in, she started shaking her head. 

"I'm going to throw up," she insisted and started heading for some of the shrubs along the side of the parking lot. "Oh. Oh no."

But she didn't throw up. Her water broke. Bob froze as Molly turned to look at him as she started crying. "I just peed," she whispered.

Then his adrenaline kicked in fully, and he closed the distance to her. "Honey, I think your water broke," he said gently, and she gasped, panic all over her face.

"No," she said, shaking her head more. "I'm not ready."

"I don't think we have much choice," he told her carefully as he guided her back to the truck. Her sister had already left with Bradley and Everett, so he would have to call them once they got to the hospital. But he needed to focus on this first, because Molly was starting to lose it.

"I can't do this. I can't!" she nearly screamed, fighting him as he tried to get her into the truck. Her pink leggings were all wet, and she was scrambling in every direction seemingly at the same time. "I don't want to," she informed him, eyes wide and unsure. 

"I'll be with you the whole time," he whispered, kissing her cheek. He was over prepared. He knew that. But he'd been sending Molly around everywhere with her hospital bag which he had packed for her, and it was currently tucked behind the driver's seat. She was as ready as she was going to be whether she wanted to admit it or not. 

Once he was finally pulling out of the parking lot with Molly successfully buckled in, Bob felt the panic as well, but he tried to keep his cool. Then suddenly Molly clutched at her belly and loudly groaned, "Shit."

"What?!"

"Is that a contraction?" she asked, gripping at the door handle. "Shit! Fucking hurts!"

When they finally got to the hospital, things had gotten worse. He took her in through the emergency room since that was where she worked. Everyone ran out to watch Bob wheel her inside in a wheelchair. She was gripping the arms and looking back up at him like he was absolutely ruining her day by bringing her here. 

"Molly's here!" one of her coworkers yelled.

Molly responded by crying and shouting, "Fuck!" But nobody seemed to think this was unexpected. They just helped Bob along to the elevator and opened all of the necessary doors to get her to the labor and delivery area.

"Thanks," he told them as another nurse let him know he could take Molly into room two. There were new mothers and nurses pushing bassinets around. It was serene. Peaceful. Really one of the loveliest things Bob had ever seen. And he was currently interrupting it by pushing Molly through as she moaned the f-word so loud and so long that nearly everyone was turning to look. 

"It's okay, Honey," he promised as he got her into room number two. 

"No, Bob!" she shouted. "It is fucking not okay! I feel like I pissed myself. I look like I pissed myself. And Charlie fucking hates me, because it hurts so much!"

She was doubled over, holding her belly. The pain on her face as she had a contraction made Bob reach for her instantly. A tear slid down her cheek, and she whimpered. And then the obscenities flowed. 

Bob tried to apologize to all of the nurses as Molly called them 'fucking assfucks', but they didn't seem to mind at all. He did however close the door as her contractions got closer together.

Hours later, after he had called his mom and Molly's sister and told them what was going on, Bob was exhausted. But he knew Molly was much worse off in that department. She was soaked with sweat and was currently glaring at him. 

"I hope you're happy, Bob," she growled, eyes flashing. "Your monster cock did this to me. Lulled me into a false sense of sexual bliss. And then your filthy mega sperm took over, and finished the job."

She looked like she wanted to hurt him, and he had to try very hard not to laugh as he held her hand. "I'm sorry, Mo. I'll never do it again," he promised.

Then she started crying. "You'll never fuck me again?"

"That's not what I meant!" he said quickly, but she was already in tears. And she said the word 'cuntbag' so many times in a row while she pushed that he lost count. 

"I see the baby," the doctor finally announced after what seemed like days. 

"Get it out! Get it fucking out!" Molly screamed, and Bob felt like screaming too. She had such a tight grip on his fingers, he was sure she cracked some bones. 

But when she looked at him, clearly scared, he kissed her sweaty forehead and told her he had never been more impressed by anyone in his entire life. And it was the truth. She looked like she was on the verge of passing out when the doctor announced that it was in fact a boy and gave the time of birth. After Charlie was measured and weighed, one of the nurses placed him in Molly's arms. 

"I don't know what to do," she whispered, carefully holding him against her chest with one arm and stroking his cheek with her fingers. "I don't know what to do." But her gaze was transfixed on their son, and her lips were softly parted in wonder. Bob could already tell that Charlie was the perfect baby. Little puckered lips and eyes that were fighting to stay open against the bright overhead lights. 

"Oh my god," Bob whispered, leaning down to kiss his son. "Molly. He's actually perfect."

Her fingers stroked along his soft skin while Bob held onto one tiny fist. "He actually is."

---------------------------

The only problem with the next few months was that they flew by. All of Bob's aviator friends had covered the pickup truck in yellow and black BABY ON BOARD signs the day they took Charlie home from the hospital. Molly thought it was hilarious, but Bob grumbled as he removed all of them. 

To Molly's extreme annoyance, Charlie seemed to prefer Bradley over all of their other visitors. Everett was overjoyed every time he got to sit with the baby, and her sister was already helping Molly with literally everything under the sun. But it was Bradley who was able to calm Charlie down and get him to fall asleep on his chest. 

"I'm the baby whisperer," he informed everyone every time he had the opportunity. 

"You're Uncle Turd," Molly told him, but Bradley just smiled at her. She couldn't be too mean, because she needed his help. He was the one who was supposed to be distracting Bob for an entire day while Molly got her wedding gift for him finished. 

She wasn't sure what the two men were going to do after the batting cages, but Molly didn't really care. She had approximately seven hours from the time she dropped Charlie off with her sister to the time she had to be back home. The wedding was in a week, the bodice of her dress was sheer lace, and she wanted the tattoo to be perfect. 

After she told her tattoo artist the exact placement she wanted and the colors to use, she sat back in the chair in her bra with her arm over her head. Molly looked down at the stretch marks on her still puffy belly. Instead of talking to Charlie there every night, Bob sat in the nursery for fifteen minutes and chatted while he rocked him to sleep. And then he did any number of sweet or dirty things to her before they fell asleep together for a few precious hours until the baby woke them up. 

But Bob never once made her feel like her weird looking belly was an issue for him. And when she brought it up one night with tears threatening behind her eyes, he told her she was more beautiful than anything he could have ever dreamed up. And Bob never lied. 

"All finished," the artist said, wiping along her skin with a towel one last time and handing her a mirror. 

A big, bold violet. A beautiful, blooming daffodil. And even a small pink rosebud. Bob, Charlie and Bradley. "Looks great."

----------------------------

As soon as Molly showed Bob her tattoo, he wrapped her up in his arms. "Gorgeous, Honey," he said, kissing her before examining it a little closer. He ran his fingers along the colorful carnations that were there for her mom and dad, and when he got to the daffodil that she got for Charlier, his fingers froze. There was a small gap between his flower and their son's flower, and when he looked up at Molly she was smiling. "Is it finished now?" he asked cautiously. 

She just shrugged. "I'm not sure yet."

Bob would never pressure her to have another child with him. He hadn't really expected to get this lucky in life, let alone feel bold enough to hope for anything more. But that little gap gave him butterflies. Charlie was the sweetest baby in the world, and Bob was obsessed with being a dad. It was his favorite thing. And he wouldn't hesitate to list the condo and find a bigger place if Molly wanted to do this all over again. "You just let me know."

"I will, Coach Cute Daddy."

Bob held her close, knowing they needed to get ready for bed soon. Charlie was still notorious for waking them up at three in the morning to eat, even though he was four months old. Molly kept saying he would probably grow out of it soon, but Bob figured his son loved them so much, he wanted them in the nursery with him. 

"Are you ready for Saturday?" he asked, taking his glasses off as Molly climbed into bed.

"Are you asking if I'm ready for the dream wedding that I've spent months planning out? Then yes, I'm ready. All you have to do is show up with the baby, agree to marry me, kiss me, and fuck me. Not all in the wildflower meadow."

Bob kissed along her shoulder as she fell asleep. Molly made him laugh more than he ever had before. And Charlie made him smile more than he ever had before. And by Saturday evening, he'd be married. 

----------------------

"I can't believe my wild child of a baby sister is getting married today."

Molly sighed contentedly and said, "To Bob Floyd. The sweet, shy man of my dreams."

Her sister laughed and added, "I don't think Bob was planning on anything like you happening to him."

Molly scoffed as she picked up her bouquet made entirely of gas station flowers. "Anything like me? You mean getting his world rocked and having a kid after being together less than a year? He's lucky."

"He is," she agreed, kissing Molly's cheek. "Now please explain to me why you are getting married with these cheap flowers when there's literally an entire meadow of multicolored poppies and zinnias growing outside?"

Molly pressed her nose to them. "Because Bob picked them up for me last night, and they're my favorite. The other flowers can learn some respect."

"If you say so," she replied, taking Molly by the hand. "As soon as I can give you away, you are one hundred percent Bob's problem." But she was holding tight to Molly's hand, and it sounded like she was on the verge of tears.

Molly walked outside with her sister and started down the grassy path toward the spot where Bob was holding Charlie in the distance. "I will never stop being your problem. And Bradley's problem by proximity."

"Good," her sister whispered, and Molly smiled at her as she cried a little bit. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

And then they walked toward the setting sun past the most beautiful shades of orange, green and yellow Molly could imagine. And it probably wasn't like other weddings, but the best ones weren't. 

They stopped so Molly could give hugs and kisses to Bob's parents and the rest of his family. And they stopped so she could get a kiss on the forehead from Bradley. "Love you, turd," she whispered. 

"Hey," he said in his raspy voice as she kissed Everett. "You owe me forever for agreeing to coach tee ball with Bob."

"And you owe me forever for letting you marry my sister," she replied easily.

He just nodded thoughtfully. "You're right. We're square."

Molly was laughing as she handed her gas station flowers off to Nat with a hug, and then she was standing in front of Bob and Charlie. 

"Hey, Honey," Bob whispered as she took Charlie from his hands so she could hold him for a bit while he napped. She kissed his soft chubby cheek, and his eyes fluttered open before closing again. 

Then she met Bob's greenish blue eyes, and he was looking at her like that very first day at tee ball, over a year ago. Like he couldn't believe she was giving him the time of day. She took a step closer to him, and said, "Hey, Coach Cute Glasses. Did you remember your allergy pills?"

"A double dose," he promised. "You ready to marry me?"

"Yes."

Molly held Charlie, and Bob wrapped his strong arm around her waist as they turned toward the sunset. The wedding was short, led by John who married her sister and Bradley last September. And as Molly closed her eyes and kissed Bob at the end of the ceremony, the warmth of the summer evening and the scent of wildflowers washed over her. 

The soft nudge of Bob's glasses against her cheek and the way he helped cradle Charlie had Molly leaning in for another kiss. Maybe it would be just the three of them, maybe not. But Molly wanted to take her family on every adventure with her.

"I love you, Cowboy Bob."

Bob smiled and kissed her softly before pressing his lip to Charlie's forehead. "I love you both."

----------------------------

Ahhhh! Thanks for joining Molly, Bob and CHARLIE on this little adventure! I'm sure they will have so many more together. You can always peep more details about them if you read Batting Practice (and maybe some future one-shots)! Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls and everyone who bugged me to make Molly and Bob a thing.

@theamuz

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@beyondthesefourwalls

@je-suis-prest-rachel

@callsign-magnolia

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@novastories

@xoxabs88xox

@rileyanntoinette

@mannsachds

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@greatszu

@zetasaturno99

@lovingrobertfloyd

@chicomonks

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[marianadecarlos]

The Birth of Philip Prospero Fanart

Philip Prospero was born on November 28, 1657, in the Royal Alcazar of Madrid. He was the first son of Philip IV of Spain and Mariana of Austria. His birth brought joy to the kingdom, but his delivery caused his mother to have childbed fever, which most did not notice because of their joy. Queen Mariana was bedridden for days after the birth and she survived.

On the day of the birth, not a bench nor a table was left unbroken in the palace, nor a single pastry-cook’s nor tavern that was not sacked. Tomorrow [December 6] they say that his Majesty will go on horseback to the Atocha to give thanks to the Mother of God… They say the prince is a pretty little chap, and that the King wishes him to be baptized at once, before the extreme cold comes on… There are to be masquerades, bull-fights and cane-tourneys as soon as the Queen stands up to see them, as well as plays with machinery invented by an engineer, a servant of the Nuncio, to be represented at the theatre of Retiro, and the saloon of the palace… The municipality, following the lead of the Councils, have gone to congratulate the King… and no gentleman, great or small, has failed to do the like.

His baptism was described to have some mishaps, starting with the Ceremonial Napkin carried by Condestable de Castilla, an unpopular military officer, He made a scene at Prospero's baptism in the following matter:

It seems that the crush of the people was so great that a staircase gave way; this disarranged the procession as it left the chapel, and in particular prevented the Duque de Bejar from taking his place and bearing away the "mazapan". The "mazapan" was not a sweet meat, but a lump of breadcrumb on which the officiating ecclesiastic wiped his fingers after anointing the child with holy oil. The bread was enclosed in a highly decorated reptacle made of marzipan and carried on a richly worked piece of needlework. It seems to be a object which evoked singular curiosity through little relevance. As the Duque de Bejar was unable to be its barrier, Philip was asked what should be done, he was told master of ceremonies to ask the Condestable De Castilla to substitute, This gentleman replied that he was sorry but he had an injured arm. Philip IV, furious, repeated his order, whereupon he replied, "The Condestable De Castilla are too exalted to fill the gaps and voids left by others. The Duque de Alburquerque carried the ewer, the Duque of Terranova, the salt sellar. Last came the Duque of Pastrana carrying on this occasion the famous mazapan. It was made in the shape of a castle with gold and silver ornamentation. The chrism is a mixture of oil and balm used to anoint the infant. Owing to its Sacrosanct Character, It was those days covered much coveted by ill-intentioned persons; hence the drops of chrism deposited on the bread crumb with the Mazapan might be stolen. The infant was naked at this baptism, At the baptism, the infant was unclothed, prompting the Infanta Maria Theresa to ask why she had to present her brother in this manner. It was explained that this tradition was a way to demonstrate his gender.

Source:

Carlos, A king who would not die by John Langdon Davis

[queer-ragnelle]

All three! Apologies. I want to learn as much as I can about him.

You got it!

The first text that Galahad appears in is the Vulgate. His predecessors and legacy are first described in The History of the Grail; then he’s conceived, born, and raised during the Lancelot books; finally in Post-Vulgate he’s a knight on Grail Quest where he achieves his life’s purpose and passes away. Additionally, here’s A Companion to The Lancelot-Grail Cycle which may help you navigate the text.

Another book I suggest for your Galahad research is The Legend of the Grail by Nigel Bryant and Norris J. Lacy. It’s got a lengthy introduction about the history of the Grail story and touches on all the characters who’ve achieved it throughout Arthurian literary history including Perceval, Gawain, and of course, Galahad. Each chapter is taken from a different text and newly translated by Nigel Bryant for this publication. It’ll give you an idea of the progression of the Grail story which eventually led to Galahad and introduce you to some adjacent texts that may be of interest.

The next medieval text that includes Galahad is La Tavola Ritonda. It’s mostly a Prose Tristan story, but does cover the whole Grail Quest with a fun Italian Galahad named Galeazzo/Galasso. I enjoy this one a lot! Regarding Galasso specifically, it’s an interesting take on the character—he’s described as very gracious and he wields a cool named sword. Plus his purity grants him necromancy powers—at one point he convenes with the dead and doesn’t bat an eye. Just keeps on adventuring. Focused. In his lane. Pretty neat!

After that comes probably the best known Arthurian text, Le Morte d’Arthur by Sir Thomas Malory. I’ve attached the version of this story abridged by Keith Baines. It’s much easier to read with proper formatting to add quotation marks to dialogue and tighten up the prose. This one also comes with A Companion to Malory which I found exceedingly helpful in breaking down the sometimes convoluted plot threads and character dynamics present in Malory’s story. Many of the essays I’ve attached below relate to this text specifically.

Lastly I would be remiss to exclude The Arthurian Handbook by the goats Norris J. Lacy and Geoffrey Ashe. This volume not only covers medieval texts, but much of the art history that goes hand in hand with Arthurian literature too. There are many paintings, tapestries, stained glass windows, and murals featuring Galahad highlighted in this book. It also includes family trees, heraldry, and maps which can help you conceptualize things detailed in writing throughout the Vulgate.

Now I’m going to list essays without descriptions since there are so many and the titles are pretty self explanatory.

Absent Fathers, Unexpected Sons: Paternity in Malory’s Morte Darthur by Cory Rushton

Born-Again Virgins and Holy Bastards: Bors and Elyne and Lancelot and Galahad by Karen Cherwatuk

Constructing Spiritual Hierarchy through Mass Attendance in the Morte Darthur by David Eugene Clark

Disarming Lancelot by Elizabeth Scala

Galahad, Percival, and Bors: Grail Knights and the Quest for Spiritual Friendship by Richard Sévère

'A Mayde, and Last of Youre Blood': Galahad's Asexuality and its Significance in Le Morte Darthur by Megan Arkenberg

Gender and the Grail by Maureen Fries

Malory and Rape by Catherine Batt

Mothers in the Grail Quest: Desire, Pleasure, and Conception by Peggy McCracken

Seeing Is Believing and Achieving: Viewing the Eucharist in Malory's 'Sankgreal' by Sarah B. Rude

Wounded Masculinity: Injury and Gender in Sir Thomas Malory's "Le Morte Darthur" by Kenneth Hodges

And that about covers it! This should give you plenty to work with. Beyond these, we’re left with literature outside the medieval era, which is a different conversation. No doubt Alfred Lord Tennyson had a huge influence on how Galahad is perceived today, but that’s irrelevant to a discussion regarding medieval source material, and a topic for another time. Hope this helps you out and you learn all you want to about Galahad!

Take care!

[partygcthered]

"Oh, good, it's fucking terrifying." Bor instantly rose to his feet and conjured balls of flame in both hands, warily backing up. "Why should we have a moment of peace? Why should I be allowed to rest, to have a minute of relaxation? What in the hells..." Bor changed tactics, instead sending a ray of frost towards his traveling companion, to push him backward and out of the tent so he could make a swift exit.

@whomuses gets a starter from the prompt generator. We got Bor, and 'waking them up from a deep sleep'.

Over the course of the past few years, he'd become a light sleeper by necessity. So the noise next to his bedrool had him rousing slightly. "This had better not be something bad." his tail twitched in irritation.

[notbecauseofvictories]

what have you been watching/reading/listening to recently? i love your media opinions

I have terrible media opinions, but thank you for asking anyway!

WATCHING My latest fascination is with Netflix's 1670, a mockumentary comedy set in early modern Poland. There's something about a irreverent historical comedy that always finds me where I live---I loved season two of Miracle Workers for that exact reason, plus The Little Hours. Even The Court Jester, though that one is more just because I love Danny Kaye.

1670 is very funny, filmed Office-style with asides and pointed looks to the camera. Nobleman Jan Paweł is familiar, a trusty blend of ignorance, bluster, and unintentional comedy; rounding out the group is his ultra-devout wife, a lazy eldest son, his second son, a scheming priest who wants to climb the Catholic ranks and has a taste for torture, his over-educated over-liberal daughter, and a handful of locals---including Maciej, from Norway, who is apprenticed to the blacksmith on a study abroad program. There's a particularly good scene where his daughter starts crusading against climate change---but the people of the town stop listening when she announces it will happen in 480 years.

"Thirty years sounds more terrifying. We'd definitely do something then," one of them says, staring down the lens of the camera.

READING I think one of the strangest bits of growing older is the realization that the world is growing older with you. For example, I just read Mattie Lubchansky's Boys' Weekend, which is a charming, unsettling dystopian graphic novel in its own right---however, it also forcibly punted me back to about 10 years ago, when I loved Matt Bors and The Nib and was thrilled by the idea that the Sunday funny pages might give way for their 2.0 cousin.

That world has gone away, been eaten up---something the novel touches on, ironically. Still, it's surprisingly affective to think that Lubchansky and I have been moving forward all this time, each in our separate ways. That even now, a decade later, I can pick up a library book and know their lineart at a glance.

LISTENING Lately, I can't get enough of Larry & Joe---a fusion band, made up of a USian banjo picker and a Venezuelan master of musica llanera. Their music is a delight, and dovetails with some of my other favorites. (I do still listen to the album fusing Chinese folk music and Appalachian old-time, and I love that playlist of metal music from many cultures.) There's something that gets me about musicians swapping sounds this way---maybe because it's the same thing that created so many music genres in the first place. And if you've been following me long enough, you know I'm weak for a huge, weird, mess of people making noise.

[hand-picked-star]

The 13th Annniversary Arshi Fiesta

Moodboard: Historical AU

Whispers of the Heart | Chapter 06

I am not very good at writing ffs. I even read ffs very selectively. But it was an attempt of me to participate in the 13th-anniversary arshi fiesta.

I might be wrong about certain aspects of that age and era, but it's a fantasy, so why not? I don't own Arnav and Khushi and the story is purely fictional and has no relation to any living or dead. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Chapter 6

The Rajputs had organized a puja for the betterment of their younger son's married life, one day before the wedding.

The Maliks were also present with the future bride. Aman and Anjali had known each other since childhood. When their friendship turned into love, they couldn't tell, but they were glad that it happened, and their elders had also blessed their union. Thinking about them, Khushi couldn't help but exhale a heavy sigh, wishing things would have turned out similarly for her too.

Her Amma's voice broke her distraction, "Titliya, ja sab ko bulake la. The puja is about to start and call Arnav too. Tell him I asked him to come downstairs and sit in the puja." knowing very well that Arnav wouldn't reject his Roma chachi.

Suvadra Malik snapped in response to the comment, "Why invite someone to a puja who doesn't believe in God? Main nahi chahti ke us nastik ke aulad ke bajayse yeh puja barbad ho jaye. I only want good things to come to my Anjali Bitiya's married life."

Khushi was about to protest when her amma caught her hand and quietened her with a shake of her head. When Khushi looked at Suvadra the next moment, she realized everybody was already there. The dark look that fell across Arnav's handsome features made her realize that his Nani's rebuke hadn't escaped him.

Arnav never cared much about religion, Seeing his mother on her knees, praying day and night for the betterment of his father, filled him with a mix of hope and desperation. Her whispered pleas, her tear-streaked face, and her unwavering faith became a haunting backdrop to his childhood. Yet, despite her devotion, his father betrayed her, shattering their family. That betrayal caused his mother to choose death over her children. The bitter irony of it all—the unanswered prayers, the blind faith met with infidelity—gnawed at him. He felt abandoned, not just by his parents but by the very idea of a benevolent higher power. In that crushing moment of disillusionment, he swore off religion, cursing the heavens that had turned a deaf ear to his mother’s relentless prayers.

But despite his disbelief in these "riti riwaj", he was determined to ensure his sister's wedding proceeded smoothly. He chose not to give his Nani any reason to cause a scene, prioritizing a seamless and joyful celebration for his sister.

Seeing no other vacant place, Arnav sat beside Khushi. As the puja concluded and the crowd dispersed, Khushi subtly shifted towards Arnav, her voice lowered to a whisper.

"I am sorry you have to hear that.''

''I won't have to tolerate her after tomorrow, now will I?'' he stated, rolling his eyes.

Khushi smiled at his somewhat optimistic yet sarcastic tone of voice. "For that, I am glad."

After sometimes she started again, "She is wrong you know" when she didn't elaborate, Arnav looked at her with questions in his eyes.

"You are not your father-" she stressed " You never will be"

"How do you know?"

She chuckled, "For a change, I know you better than her and - " she paused to gather herself.

''and I believe in you.''

She gazed at him as a soft, tender expression crossed his face, conveying a multitude of unspoken emotions. She yearned to convey to him the significance he held in her life. With wistful thoughts, she silently mused if only he could see himself through her eyes. She hoped for her unexpressed feelings to reach him, emanating from the depths of her heart.

She looked so pretty today, with a green-bordered yellow saree and a green bindi. Of course, Arnav noticed. She had flowers in her braid that day. Arnav's heart gave a twist as the reason drawn to him.

'Can you sit idly and watch while someone else takes her away?' the voice wondered.

'Shut up,' he said, closing his eyes momentarily. But he couldn't ignore the intoxicating aroma emanating from her. He realized it was partly her and partly the flowers, and decided that he liked her smell the most when it was purely hers, without mixing with anything else.

Buaji spent the entire morning urging her to get ready. She styled her hair and adorned it with flowers. Even though it was a simple piece, her Amma's gold necklace felt like a heavy burden around her neck. She didn't want to dress up for Mr. Ganguly. Every fiber of her being rebelled against the thought of establishing someone else's 'haq' over her. It felt like a part of her was being torn away. How could she make Buaji understand that she was no longer fit for anyone else in the world, no matter how many flowers she pinned in her hair? That He had ruined her for all other men.

One time when she was 14, a similar puja for the betterment of crops was ruined. That ceremony took place in a field slightly far from the village. All of them went there and Khushi was so excited to see all the jalebi and golgappa stalls. However, all the merriments were disrupted by a dacoit attack. People were panicking and running to and fro. When the dacoits attempted to grab Khushi and Manoroma, Akash Vai and Arnav intervened. This resulted in one of the dacoits hitting Arnav on the head, causing a lot of bleeding. Fortunately, the dacoit attack was brought under control by the timely arrival of the village people.

They rushed to the Rajput Haveli and a doctor was called. He examined Arnav's head and face and found out the source of the bleeding. It looked like except for the cut below his left eyebrow, his head and the rest of his face were unscratched. The doctor stitched the cut. The cut wasn't too deep, but he lost lots of blood as it was on the face and soon after developed a nasty infection. The whole household didn't sleep that night. Manoroma spent the night sitting beside him as he kept shivering due to a high fever. Khushi didn't know what to do but stared at him from the corner of the room. Buaji kept saying, it was difficult for him to survive the night. Khushi prayed to Devi Maiya repeatedly and even swore on her life to save him. When he opened his eyes the next day, she cried out of relief. Even though weak he asked her why she was crying.

"I don't want the dacoit to take you away too," she said. To this, he laughed meekly "Don't worry, Phati Sari, You aren't going to get rid of me anytime soon."

As Khushi was watching Arnav helping the workers set up the mandap, she silently wondered whether he would make such a promise to her if she asked again.

Arnav was always like that: always helping around the house. He assisted Babuji in the garden, did the grocery shopping, and took on big responsibilities in arranging every event. These were not his tasks, but he did them anyway. In doing so, he exuded a commanding and authoritative aura, as if everyone was supposed to bow to him and acknowledge the "laad governor" that he was. Khushi silently laughed at his demeanour. Laad Governor, Her Laad Governor. She mused fondly.

Arnav always demanded attention wherever he went, didn't he? She thought to herself, at least he had her full attention every single time. Whenever he walked into a room, the conversation stopped and a stunned silence filled the space. Only the 'dhak-dhak' of her heart remained. He made her feel exposed and safe at the same time.

She understood why he helped around the house so much. He wanted to show his gratitude for everything Babuji and Amma had done for him. It would be a shame as a best friend if she didn't understand that. And sometimes she wondered if this was the reason why he was not willing to consider them being together, or if he just couldn't see her as more than a friend. After all, falling in love with someone was not in one's hands. Maybe Arnav just couldn't love her as she loved him.

But one could never be certain about things like that, could they? Just like how wrong she was in her previous assessment of him not caring about whether she got married to another person or not. He clearly was affected; she just didn't know the extent of it or what to make of all this. For example, for the past half hour, he had been glaring at her and her companion, clenching his jaw, and grinding his teeth, making his jaw more prominent. Khushi couldn't help but speculate whether he was angry or jealous as she observed him closely. She didn't dare to hope for the latter reaction; she didn't want to build castles in the air.

With a heavy sigh, she shifted her focus to the man in front of her. Dhruv Ganguly was undeniably handsome; no one in a million years would deny that. Still, Khushi, sitting across from him, couldn't help but scrutinize him. Maybe Bua Ji was right; her 'sanak' had finally gotten to her head.

She couldn't help but notice how he had a round, clean-shaven face, unlike the angular one with stubble. He smiled too much, and his nose wasn't sharp enough. He didn't have a defined jawline, nor did he have piercing eyes that could hold her gaze and make her feel warm all over. His eyes didn't brighten with excitement when she spoke, or flash with rage when she contradicted him, or show amusement and curiosity when she spoke about her favourite book. His eyes didn't conceal any dark secrets either. Instead, he wore black-framed glasses and talked with a downcast gaze. He had a nervous tic of fixing his glasses with his index finger. And alas! His hands were all wrong too—too slender, too light-skinned, too soft-looking. Most importantly, this man couldn't raise his left eyebrow singly when he asked her something. Khushi chastised herself; she was nitpicking for the sake of nitpicking.

Dhruv Ganguly had no flaws. He was perfect: handsome, well-mannered, and well-educated, except for the absence of a scar right beneath his left eyebrow.

<previous> | <next>

@featheredclover @phuljari @arshifiesta @jalebi-weds-bluetooth @chutkiandchotte @arshiradio @titaliya

[newsadswan]

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Original panels:

[vladdocs]

CD SHORTS: How can we find the descendants of Vlad the Impaler?

The Drăculești line of the Basarab dynasty has long since died out. However, it is likely that there are illegitimate descendants still around today. These individuals can be identified through new technologies. DNA collected from the graves of "Dracula's relatives" is compared with commercial genetic databases that show the degree of relatedness to millions of people. Which graves are we talking about? The grave in Sibiu of Mihnea the Bad, Vlad the Impaler's son, was emptied of bones by the 18th century. The graves of his sons in Hungary are unknown, and the claims of kinship by some Hungarian nobles are dubious or based solely on adoption. The only chance is Putna. Maria Voichița, the wife of Stephen the Great, was the daughter of Radu the Handsome, Vlad's brother. Her remains and those of her son, Bogdan III, are the only ones that contain Drăculești DNA. Now, all that is missing is the permission from the Romanian Orthodox Church (BOR) to open these graves. More about Vlad the Impaler's grave and his relatives…